


No Rest For the Wicked

by guineamania



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/pseuds/guineamania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon Solo is stretched thin, and fully looking forward to his day off</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest For the Wicked

“You do not understand how much I am looking forward to tonight,” Napoleon murmured from where he was laid down on the backseat of their car. His head was propped up on Illya’s jacket and he was using his own to staunch the bleeding from a gunshot wound in his side.

“Why are you looking forward to tonight?” Gaby asked, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Neither of her partners had any concern for their personal safety.

“My phone was destroyed in the fight. As I am injured I cannot be expected to answer the hotel phone or the door. There is no way Waverly can get to me to send us on another mission. It’s brilliant,” Napoleon laughed. It was clear that the blood loss and lack of sleep were getting to him. They had been a part of UNCLE for going on a year now and it was only recently that the CIA had noticed that this collaboration meant they were unable to utilise their best asset. So they had been sending Napoleon off on solo missions whenever he was not needed for UNCLE missions. It was really beginning to take its toll on the American.

“Okay cowboy, how about you stay alive to enjoy your relaxing night then,” Illya sighed, it was best not to argue sometimes.

 

Napoleon was laid in bed back at the hotel with a beaming grin on his face. Illya had patched up his side and he was going to be fine. Now he could just laze here and watch TV. It was great. The remote though was like nothing he had ever seen before. After pressing a few buttons he eventually managed to get the screen working and a face filled the space. The colour drained from Napoleon’s face and he threw the remote at the wall in a fit of anger. “No, no! You cannot be serious!” Napoleon shouted at the screen.

“Hello Agent Solo, the CIA have a mission for you.”


End file.
